Friday night’s Mod Club appearance by Las Vegas native Shamir was electric from the get-go.
Prior to his grand entrance, HANA (LA’s answer to Grimes) cradled early patrons with her voice and modulated pulses. The subdued electro-pop obligated its purpose: a warm-up to dance time.
“I want to see all the bodies in the room…moving,” declared Shamir with open arms, his finger nails shaded in neon orange. Evidently, his fan base runs the spectrum: Peasant dresses, french collars and leather biker caps. Let’s not forget would-be moms and dads mixing it up.
Amidst the frenetic crowd, Shamir commanded the audience in the palm of his glittered dusted hands. Enlivened by a band of keyboards and drums, tracks like “Make A Scene” and “Call It Off” sounded huge.
Sporadically, the house lights would rise, as if Shamir desired something deeper from his devotees. Dimming back to darkness, he stepped away from the mic to sway in the beat.
No, Shamir’s music doesn’t come from a broken disco. On the contrary, his roots are the desert, the dance-floor and the denizens who came to support his ratchet ways.
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Review by Myles Herod |